


Freedom Run

by Roland_VanOwen



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roland_VanOwen/pseuds/Roland_VanOwen
Summary: Remy Lebeau is on the run from his New Orleans home. With his accounts frozen and his safehouses discovered, the Ragin' Cajun is persona non grata in the Big Easy. You can't expect Gambit to go down without a fight, however. He just needs Wanda's help with one small thing...
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Scott Summers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t care. I don’t want him living here.” From the living room, Remy could identify every voice going off in the kitchen. There was Pietro’s self-assured cadence. Remy pulled a cigarette out from his pack and lit it while considering if they smoked in the house or not. He glanced toward the paint peeling away from the molding, then the broken window panes covered with cardboard and decided it didn’t matter.

“He could bring in money. There ain’t a whole lot of that around right now.” Oh good, I’m useful, Remy thought. He glanced around the unkempt living room for an ashtray, over a pile of Chinese take-out and pizza boxes, and half-full beer bottles above the television, finally grabbing an empty beer can from under the coffee table, waving away several fruit flies as he asked into the mouth of the can. He glanced around the living room again, This what you been reduced to, Remy. Fair t’say this is bottom. 

“Well, maybe if some people around here would actually get out and get a job money wouldn’t be so tight.” Pietro again, his voice was getting higher as the argument wore on.

“I told you both, I’ve tried, it’s just people don’t take too kindly to my pheromones.”

“Todd, they’re not ‘pheromones,’ you just don’t shower. People don’t like-” Remy tuned out as the argument between Pietro and Todd devolved into a shouting match. Remy glanced over at the TV playing nothing but fuzz, then at the stained floor, walls, and ceiling. I didn’t even know it was possible for a house to be this dirty, he thought as he swept a clutter of fast food take-out bags onto the floor with his leg, exposing a table lousy with water marks and burns. What this place needs is a woman’s touch-

“What are you doing here?” Wanda Maximoff glared down at Remy, who briefly saw the definitions of serendipity and irony float through his head.

“Well, hello to you too. I’m looking to crash for a couple nights. Your roommates been arguing about that ever since I showed up. You got any thoughts?” He slouched a little bit into the couch and flashed his best grin. Wanda grunted an understanding then turned out of the living room. The next thing he heard was a loud crash in the kitchen.

“Babycakes!”

“Shut up. Aren’t all of you going on a camping trip this weekend? As in tomorrow? Been planning it for months, Lance worked doubles all week to cover this weekend,” Several low grumbles followed this. “So go on your camping trip, and deal with him on Monday. I’ll be in the house keeping an eye on him. End of discussion.”

“But he beat us up once.”

“Oh my god! Go on your camping trip or I will beat you until I see blood,” Wanda stormed back into the living room. “You owe me one.” And her bootsteps led upstairs without further exchange.

“Mes amis! Y’all good if I smoke in here?”

Much later, after most had retired to their beds and the argument had long faded from the air, Remy sat out in the warm summer air, inhaling deeply from a glass pipe. The front yard of the Brotherhood house looked over nothing, just weeds choking out a yard. One by one he watched the lights in the house flick off as he touched lighter to grass again and again. He had just patted out the remaining ash when Lance Alvers came walking up the step

“Lance? You still running around this place?”

“Gambit? What the hell are you doing here?”

“He’s my guest for the weekend, “Wanda appeared at the door. Lance attempted to give the two of them an odd look, but he was too tired for such a feat and simply waved a hand.

“Well, have fun. I’m going upstairs and try to get some sleep. Thank god Pietro is driving tomorrow.” He stepped past the both of them and trudged up the stairs.

“Mon ami, you want to hit this,” but Lance had already shut the door behind him. “How about you?”

“Of course.” Wanda grabbed the bowl and lighter from him and held it in her lap momentarily. “So, you’re welcome for earlier. Again.” She didn’t look at him, instead she looked across the weed choked lawn. Whenever the wind blew, bits of brown grass would be lifted into the air. There were no neighbors to speak of so they both settled into unmatching chairs that overlooked the lawn and the barren street beyond.

“Got to be honest, I wasn’t expectin’ you to help me out the way you did.”

“Well, I’m a little smarter than the guys around here.” Wanda took a small hit from the glass pipe, then continued, letting the smoke creep out as she spoke. “I know you worked for my father for years, collecting a steady pay for your services while being provided food, shelter and just about anything else you needed. Not only that, but you rent out your services as a thief, and not for cheap. Now, you’re crashing on that sofa? You’re either up to something, or you’re hiding.” Remy’s grin disappeared and he stared at the lawn. 

“Well, since you so curious to know, my father was killed four days ago, got no idea who did it. Two days ago, I was at the ATM. My account is frozen, nothing in or out. If that ain’t bad enough, just as I’m finding that out, bullet misses my head by less than an inch. Lucky for me, they sent a beginner to take out an ace. He’s no more then ten feet, so I take him out, no big deal. I ran a few blocks to a friends place here I find out I’m wanted by every assassin in Louisiana. Got a price on my head like you wouldn’t believe. Wasn’t til I made a few calls that I figured out how bad it was. Whoever ordered the hits, they got everything. Every account I got in the U.S., every safe house my father ever set up, coast to coast is gone. Thank god for Bishop, he helped me get to a train station. Slipped onto one headin’ this way, and here I am.”

“Wow. I’m, um, I’m sorry about that. I mean, your father-”

“My father got what he had coming to him. As for me, there ain’t a force in heaven or hell gonna stop me from puttin’ every single person behind this in a pine box right next to that worthless father of mine.”

“So, what are you doing up here?” Wanda asked after several minutes.

“Money. You a smart cookie, chere, I didn’t need the money your dad paid me. So I stashed it somewhere safe.”

“Oh yea? I thought you said all your bank accounts were frozen.”

“I didn’t hide it in a bank; I hid it in the one place I knew it’d be safe- Professor Xavier’s.”

“Professor Xavier? The most powerful telepath on the planet, runs the X-men, giant impenetrable mansion, that Professor Xavier?” 

“The one and only. And that’s where you come in, if’n you looking for a little extra cash yourself..”

“Me? Where the fuck do I come in?” 

“Whoa, I ain’t asking you to do anything you don’t want to, just asking you to help me get my money and get outta town,” He held his hands up, as though to show there was nothing up his sleeve. When he saw a flash of curiosity in Wanda’s eyes, he continued. “See, I can get in and out just fine, but I need a distraction to keep the Professor’s brain and Wolverine’s snout occupied. I figure I can get in and out under fifteen minutes.“ Wanda couldn’t explain it; maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the fact that the most exciting thing she had done in the past six months was breaking the speed limit, but she could hardly contain a queer sort of excitement when she said,

“If you really think you can pull something like that off, I want to see it.”

“Now that’s the spirit I like to see, Chere,” Remy shouted, his red eyes flashing with excitement. “Now, I been running this through my head for a while, just never had the right person to pull it off.”

The next morning, the boys were off early, three A.M. early. At eleven, Wanda finally rose out of bed. She stretched, yawned, and then stopped, her mind snapped out its post-sleep fog. There was the unmistakable smell of breakfast cooking, pancakes and bacon. She hastily threw a bathrobe on and allowed her nose to lead her.

“You cooked breakfast?”

“Ain’t no better alarm clock then the smell of bacon. Also, I never pull a job on an empty stomach.” Grinning, he set a plate in front of her. She eyed it suspiciously, gently poking the pancakes with a fork.

“Where did this food come from?”

“Found the pancake mix in the closet; stole the bacon from a store ‘bout three blocks from here.” He filled another plate then sat at the opposite end of the table. He made no effort to talk further until Wanda asked,

“How sure are you about breaking into Xavier’s?” His fork clattered loudly on the plate.

“Well, disregarding the fact that Charles Xavier and Wolverine both live there, it’s got a state of the art security system, not to mention an entire squadron of kids trained to be the best fighters, strategists, whatever you want to call it. Getting past all that, I hid the money in the subbasement of the mansion-where all the big-time X-men activity takes place. I need that money, so you bet your ass I’m sure about this.”

“Well, just so you know,“ said Wanda after shoveling a forkful of pancake into her mouth. “If this goes bad, at any time, I will sell you down the river.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, chere.”

[A/N: Please leave a review.]


	2. Chapter 2

The gates of Xavier’s mansion loomed high, intimidating and gigantic, made all the moreso because of the plan set ahead. Remy and Wanda had ditched her car about a mile away. “Just in case,” Remy had said, and the thought of this brought a slight frown to Wanda’s lips.

“Alright, if everything goes like it should, and it always does, I’ll be done in thirty minutes. I just need you to distract the Professor for that time.”

“Any suggestion how I’m supposed to do that? Excuse me if I’m not the master thief you are.” Wanda put all the sarcastic emphasis she could on the words master thief.

“Just tell him you want to join the x-men, but you not sure. Ask for a trial run,” He shrugged. “Don’t overthink it, I got faith in you.”

“Wait a minute, you said fifteen minutes at the-“ Wanda turned to stare him down, but he had already disappeared into the woods. As she pressed the intercom button on the gate, she questioned why she had agreed to this. I never help people. I need to remember that. Fred better not eat my cookie dough.

He darted across the lawn, keeping to a line of trees along the west side of the mansion. He kept deep in the woods until he saw his target, an innocuous gazebo. He moved in at an angle, keeping his eyes peeled for cameras, people, anything that could be a deterrent. He approached the gazebo without incident, but he never took his eyes off the lawn as he ran a hand along the railing.

Success. His fingers found a loose panel. Keeping his eyes on the lawn, he worked the panel loose, revealing a small red button. Once depressed, the floor of the gazebo folded, and a small elevator rose up. A shinning cylinder built for no more than two. Remy jumped in and let the doors close behind him.

“Scott, you need a vacation.” Xavier looked out the window, not facing his student.

“I need a lot of things, Professor. But right now? We just let a former enemy into this school. I don’t think this is time for a vacation.”

“Scott, there’s never a good time for a vacation. There’s always some threat, some mutant in trouble. Do you expect to just work until you die?” Scott stiffened his shoulders and adjusted his glasses.

“Professor, there’s a lot going on right now, I can’t rationalize taking time off. Besides, we’ve had some staff departures recently.”

“One, Scott, one staff departure. And ever since Jean left for the Avengers you’ve barely looked up from your work.”

“I take it seriously.” Scott said after a pause.

“So do I. Scott, you shouldn’t be expected to run everything yourself. There’s a reason I pay Logan, and Katherine, and Kurt, and so many others. It’s so no one gets overwhelmed.” The intercom on Xavier’s desk buzzed once, then twice. Scott’s chest lit up in a small x, buzzing around the area as it did so. He put a finger to it, and Kitty Pryde’s voice came through.

“Scott, Wanda Maximoff is outside. She says she wants to talk to someone about…joining the X-men?” Scott looked up at Xavier.

“Not a good time for a vacation, Professor.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but he remained neutral.

“This conversation is not over. Tell Katherine to open the gates for Wanda.”

Peter Rasputin leaned as far into the metal chair as he could, putting some distance between his chest and the controls of the security cameras. At 6’7 he found that few of the mansions dimensions were accommodating. 

“I show up on any cameras?” Piotr heard a voice from behind him.

“I hope you understand what a risk this is. I have not been here long, I still get looks from some of the other students. They are suspicious of me.” 

“Peter, you ain’t got a thing to worry about. I’m here for one thing, and I’m gone. I’ve got no plans to ruin a good thing for you. Now, did I show up on any cameras?”

“No. No you did not show up on the cameras.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Now, you got any cameras on the Professor’s office?” Peter returned to his seat and began tapping buttons on the controls.

“Illyana climbed three stairs yesterday.” Peter said.

“Three? No kidding. She only been walking two months.”

“Yes. Dr. McCoy says she is making excellent progress.”

“I’m glad it’s working out for the both of you. Alright, Wanda just went in the office. I gotta run.”

“I do not feel good about this.” Peter said quietly. Remy stopped, and for the first time stopped grinning. He walked back from the exit, and placed a comforting hand on Piotr’s shoulder.

“Peter, you ever need a favor, just call me. You helping me out like you don’t even know, mon ami,” Remy put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Scott was waiting at the door for Wanda, with Logan hovering further behind. Wanda smirked, sensing their unease and suspicion and deciding in an instant to take full advantage of it. He did tell me to be distracting. Time to distract.

“Hello gentlemen, are you the welcoming committee?” She stretched an exaggerated grin that neither man returned. Scott glanced over his shoulder at Logan before turning back to Wanda.

“I guess you can call me that. What are you doing here?”

“Like I said to Kitty, I want to talk to Xavier about joining the X-men. Swoop through the skies, save the world. Do you guys get a discount anywhere?” Logan grunted again as Scott gestured down the hall towards Xavier’s office, following along with her.

“You’ve never shown an interest in this place before. Why the change?”

“What, like I’m not allowed to change?” She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she came to a stop. Scott paused and cleared his throat before answering, speaking as precisely as he could.

“That’s not what I meant, it’s just that this is sudden. One day you’re living in the Brotherhood house and the next you’re meeting with the Professor and thinking about joining the team.” 

“And that’s the same thing you just said, but with extra words. Which is more annoying. You know, what’s with the third degree? It was this moment that Xavier wheeled from around the corner.

“Wanda, it’s good to see you. As I’m in charge of admissions, maybe we could talk in my office.” He smiled, holding out his hand in the direction of his office. Wanda huffed and agreed.

“Free tip, Scott, you’d be a lot a cuter without that stick up your ass.” His face remained stoic, but Wanda thought she might have seen him blush as she turned and followed the Professor down the remainder of the hall and turned to his office. “You know, I don’t appreciate the suspicious questioning and looks from Cyclops. At least, I think they were suspicious looks, can’t tell with that visor he wears. He might have just been glaring at the drapes.” Wanda felt another surge of excitement. This’ll be easy. Just insult everyone and go home. 

“Calm down, Wanda,” Xavier laughed. “Scott is…defensive of this place. In a way, we all are, we just want a safe place for mutants that can stay as far from prying eyes as possible. It’s not something that’s always easy, especially in this age of camera phones and round-the-clock social media. We have to act like another person is here at all times. Now, tell me a little about what brought you in today.”

“I mean, like I said I’m…really interested in joining the X-men, yea.” Wanda forced a smile and nervously darted her eyes between the Professor’s calm gaze and the floor. She cursed herself for not rehearsing something, or maybe asking Agatha for an improv class or two.

“I see. Could I ask what brings you in here? Beyond simply joining us?” Wanda paused for a moment as she ran through her thoughts, but when she finally spoke what came out even shocked her a little.

“Look, I guess I’m getting tired of living in a house full of guys that all high school the best years of their lives. I mean, maybe I’m not looking to join automatically, I’m more looking to get a feel for how you guys go. Do you have a trial run deal?” Professor X laughed as Wanda considered the truth of what she had just said and took a breath.

“Wanda, we’re not the army. People are free to come and go as they please. We simply provide a safe haven for any mutant that wishes to stay here. However, I hope you understand and do not take offense when I say that not every dealing with you in the past has been a peaceful one.” He hadn’t mentioned the first part of her speech and she was grateful for it.

“Oh, that’s past me. Really, I bought a stress ball.” Professor Xavier smiled and wheeled himself from behind his desk.

“Wanda, I’m glad you came to me, to this school. I truly believe that you have a potential in you that has not yet been fully realized, and I believe the X-men could only help you get closer to that potential. However, I also sense some doubt in you. I’d like you to sleep on this for a few days and then come back. May I see you out?”

“Uh, sure.” Wanda said quickly. She was rattled, and the sooner she was away from him and this office and this mansion, the better.

Passing by the hanger, Remy stopped, and looked around. He pushed open a door marked, “Men”, greeted immediately by the stale sweat and air-freshener stench that permeates almost any men’s room. He glanced around before making a beeline for the last stall. Locking the flimsy metal door, he dropped to his knees and studied a small air vent behind the toilet. He grinned, and after a couple minutes finesse and a small pocket screwdriver, the vent cover slid away. Inside lay a small wooden box, which Remy stuffed into his coat quickly.

Wanda stood until she heard the gates close after her. She had turned down Xavier’s offer for a ride, assuring him she preferred to walk. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully; it couldn’t be that easy to fool a psychic. Or maybe he knew she was lying and just didn’t care. But had she been lying? She had been getting frustrated living in what had basically become a frathouse. Had Xavier brought that out of her head? What was it Pietro always said about-

“Was it really that bad?” She shot a hex bolt that missed Remy by a hair. He just grinned harder, waving a thick stack of bills

“What do I have to do to be rid of you?”

“Get me to the train station. I’ll be fine from there.” Wanda groaned, and the two started the trek back to her car.

As the door closed and Charles wheeled back into his home he found Logan already waiting for him in the foyer, feet propped up on a footstool.

“I really see one of the Maximoffs in here, my eyes ain’t going funny?”

“That you did. Wanda was here seeking some sort of temporary housing reprieve from the Brotherhood. She even mentioned wanting to join the X-Men.”

“Huh. You believe her, Chuck?”

“There’s a chance, but I don’t believe that’s what brought her to us today. While she was here, I could feel the presence of someone else.”

“Someone broke into the mansion? Past Forge’s security grid?” Logan sprang from his seat, his teeth already clenched together.

“Yes, it appears someone did. Funny thing was, there was no intention of malice by this second presence. Take Cyclops and ready the Blackbird. Mischief is afoot, and I have a theory as to who is at the center.”


	3. Chapter Three

“A mission? An hour ago he was telling me I needed a vacation, and now we have a break-in right under our noses?” Scott closed up the fuel hatch and began wheeling the tank back to its storage place. 

“The Professor doesn’t sound too concerned, Slim. Wanda Maximoff was in his office the whole time so it has to be someone else. We’re gonna tail her and see where she ends up.” 

“You know, according to Forge, his security was nearly unbreakable.”

“Yea, well, someone found the nearly,” Logan checked his watch. “Hey, I’m gonna take a leak ‘fore we head out.”

“Thanks for sharing Logan.” He ignored the twenty-year old and left the hanger, making his way to the men’s locker room in the adjacent hallway. He entered, and stopped. 

He inhaled once.

Now twice…something was amiss, but Logan couldn’t place the scent. He knew it was familiar, something beyond the normal locker room smells

Leaving the restroom, he saw Piotr heading towards him.

“Hey, Rasputin, where you heading?”

“I just got off security duty. Am I required somewhere?” Logan inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Just got a mission, I think you should come along,” Logan sniffed again. “Yea, now that I think about it, this’ll be good for the both of us. It’ll give me a chance to see how you do in the field.” He flashed Piotr another look, one that said that Logan wasn’t asking, but telling, and he saw a look of acquiescence on Piotr’s face. Logan grinned.

“Well, here you are. I’d say it was fun, but I personally find you annoying. Get out of my car.”

“That hurts, chere. You saying this wasn’t fun?”

“What fun? You had all the fun, I got to talk to Xavier, big fucking party.”

“Alright, I’m going. Hold on, I promised you-“ Remy’s voice stopped short as a bullet ripped through the windshield, flying between the two and lodging into the backseat. Both inside the car automatically ducked as another shot rang out, this one hitting the dashboard. Roughly fifty feet from the car, a cadre of men, all clad in black and holding assault rifles. Even from the distance, Remy could make out the grenades strapped to their chests and the ammo clips on their belts, glinting in the early afternoon sun. They looked prepared for a full scale invasion, and if he had the time Remy might have gloated a bit.

“What the hell is going on? You said you lost the assassins in New Orleans!” More shots rang out, and Gambit took the opportunity to launch several cards through the now-shattered windshield. One smashed into mercenary’s chest, sending him flying backward off the train platform. Two more smacked the platform themselves, damaging the concrete and taking several of the men off their feet. The explosions were cacophonous but bullets still rained down. 

“We running on three, got it,” Wanda nodded. “Three!” They each threw open their doors and rolled onto the ground into a sprint. The parking lot became a laser show, pink cards and blue hex bolts raining through the sky. Wanda caught one man in the chest, his body armor dissolving into a gloppy mass. As he slapped against the failing clothing and dropped to his knees, a card exploded at his face. Wanda didn’t see him get back up. Just as they managed to duck behind a row of bushes, Wanda’s car exploded. Flaming wreckage rained down onto the pavement as the assassins took cover on ground below the train platform. 

“My car!”

“Could’ve been your life, chere. Come on, we can steal another car.” They could already hear the assassins picking themselves up from the ground. Remy launched a few cards to keep them unsteady. 

“I don’t want another car. I want my car.” Wanda screamed, punctuating her words with a sharp punch to Remy’s arm. They both ran in a crouch until they came behind a building. They leaned against the tan brickwork, panting and out of breath. The air smelled of copper and gunpowder, and sirens crescendoed in the distance. 

“We don’t got a lot of time, that explosion only going to buy us a few minutes.”

“Fuck you, I’m going home.” She stood up to leave, but Remy held onto her coat. She turned to shout at him, but caught the words in her throat when she saw the worry in his face was genuine.

“Bad idea. Chances are they know your face now too. If they saw your license plate, they can get your address. We got to get out of here, and we both in this for the long haul.”

Four hours later found the two well outside of New York without a single word exchanged between the two. Remy hadn’t noticed at first; he had been distracted making sure no one was tailing the two mutants. Now, on a back road pushing eighty, he glanced over at Wanda, who had twisted as much of her body toward the window as possible. Remy gave a small shrug and switched on the radio.

“I can’t believe you blew up my car!” Wanda screamed. Remy switched off the radio, but this only elicited further loud screams from Wanda. This continued for several minutes before Wanda stopped, her breathing loud and ragged. 

“Feel better?” Remy was silently grateful they were on the back roads, anyone witnessing Wanda’s spontaneous expulsion of frustration would have immediately flagged the car down.

“No, I’m stuck driving away from my home, in a car with a criminal while my car is a flaming ball of metal.”

“I’m not a criminal,” Remy said softly. “And I didn’t mean for you to get involved like this.”

“Well, I am.” They drove in silence again; the only difference being Wanda was now staring out the windshield. Treelines passed by and changed into long stretches of empty land and back into treelines again. Every so often the y would see the Skeltons of dying towns, choked out by the Interstate Highway System. The hours ticked by, little moments dying a quiet death, never to be heard from again. Before long, the sun was getting ready to set behind the clouds. He spied a sign advertising a motor lodge up ahead.

“I’m gonna pull in up here. Get some rest, we’ll get an early start tomorrow.”

As Scott started the jet and sent it down the runway the events of his day ran through his head, starting with his conversation with the professor. He thought hard, trying to think of somewhere, excluding missions, that he had been besides the mansion. By the time he had the jet at a cruising altitude and switched on the autopilot, he found himself debating if the garage was technically still the mansion. He had been working seven days a week for months now. He was even dwelling on the fact Wanda called him cute even though he’d put that it was more insult than anything else. Scott eventually realized that was because she was the first non-teammate he had talked to in months. 

Behind him, Piotr sat upright in his seat, face forward and silent as soon as he set foot on the plane. This was his first time on the jet, at least while it was running, and Scott assumed that was the nervousness he read. A book sat unopened on his lap. Logan, recently prohibited from smoking on the Blackbird, sat next to Piotr with his arms crossed, but clearly more at ease 

“Did the professor give you any details on this break in we’re supposed to be investigating?” Scott finally broke the silence.

“No, but luckily we got a witness right here.” Logan grinned and nudged Piotr with his elbow. Piotr’s eyes darted between Scott and Logan for several times before he bowed his head, and told them the story of Remy breaking into the mansion and his reasons for it. At the end he softly asked, “My sister will not be kicked out for this, will she?”

“What, no of course not.” Scott said immediately, shooting a look toward Logan.

“Way to make me feel like a heel, kid. This is one of those things you oughta give us a heads up on though. Hell, Charles would’ve probably let him stroll in if that’s the situation.”

“I’m sorry, I know it was wrong, but I owe him for many things, including my life. He and John helped me a great deal when we were conscripted into working for Magneto.”

After some haggling with the desk clerk over price, and a long fight over the specific number of beds, the two were holed up in beautiful room twelve. It was a garishly decorated room painted a drab green that was flaking and peeling. The furniture showed its age in a most ungraceful way. There were dents and stains over everything, and the glaring bulbs shone garishly through the thinning lampshades. They cast an unhealthy yellow onto everything. Scorch marks Wanda lay on her bed, flipping through the few channels picked up by the failing TV set, while Remy sat in front of a map, intermittently smoking from his glass pipe in an effort to calm his heart rate. 

“Do you mind if I hit that,” Wanda suddenly spoke up, snapping the silence that had enveloped the room in one bold gesture. Remy offered the pipe her way, but said nothing. “Look, I’m angry about what happened today, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Those assholes were trying to kill both of us.”

“Ain’t no honor with Assassins. They kill their own family for a little bit of power. They like crabs in pot, always crawling over one another so the other one can’t get ahead,” Remy’s rising tone was punctuated when he slammed his fist into the bed, ripping a fist sized hole into lower Pennsylvania. He apologized as he crumpled up the remnants of the map and tossed into the trash can. “ Desole, they get me worked up sometimes.” 

“You don’t say. So, do I have to stick with you for the whole trip?”

“At least until New Orleans. I’m not sure what we’re gonna do once we get there, I don’t want you seeing some the places I gotta go.”

“Afraid of offending my virgin eyes? Don’t worry, I’m resilient.” 

“Ain’t that I’m worried about. It’s-“ Remy stopped as there was a knock at the door. He and Wanda exchanged nervous, worried glances. This wasn’t the type of hotel to offer room service, and Remy had paid in cash. Whoever was knocking had come of their own accord. Remy let a handful of cards fall from his sleeve and lay them between his fingers. He made quick eye contact with Wanda; it told her all she needed to know. She dropped the pipe on the bed and let her hands fold themselves into fists. Remy approached the door with trepidation, and swung the door open.

“You gonna stare or you gonna invite me in?” Three shining claws pointed towards the doorway. Wolverine stood, flanked by Colossus and Cyclops. Remy met eyes with Wolverine.

“Come on in, then,” He said after an interminable pause. He looked out again, the day’s heat still rising off the pavement, before turning to Logan. “You been walking long? You smell like something died.”

“Listen, Cajun, I didn’t come here for a fight, but I got no problem obliging you,” Logan paused. “Now, if you’re willing to keep your mouth shut, we’re looking to talk,” He and Remy were still making sore eyes at each other, but Remy relented, taking a seat at the wobbly table. Wanda didn’t look any happier, but she took a seat on the bed as well, and Logan sat down in the other cheap plastic chair. “I’m gonna cut right to it, Gambit, I know you broke in earlier.”

“Dat so?”

“Ain’t like there’s a whole lot of mutant thieves that know how to break past military-grade security. Even fewer that aren’t gonna raise all kinds of hell once they’re in there. So, what do you say if we skip the bullshit where you deny it and just move to the part where we talk about why you did it.”

“I left something of mine in there. You really fly all this way just to ask me why I was in your precious mansion? If you ain’t looking for fight, you looking for something that either I don’t have or wasn’t your to begin with.” Logan grumbled under his breath and Remy 

“I told him about what happened, Remy. Your father, the attempt on your life. They want to help you.” Piotr spoke up, and his booming voice still managed to sound delicate. Remy shot him a disgusted look, one Logan caught as well.

“He ain’t lying.”

“So, what? You just show up and we gonna be pals? Piotr’s a good man, and I ain’t, “ Remy stood up and began pacing about the room. “I ain’t good guy X-Men material. Anyway, You ever dealt with the families down there?” Wolverine grinned and bared a fist, allowing his three claws to pop out.

“What do you think I got these for, scratchin’ backs?”

“I ain’t talkin’ about that. The guilds down there, they ruthless. Last I heard, the X-men don’t kill.”

“Last I heard, we weren’t on a mission for the X-men.”


	4. Chapter Four

Remy had little response but to accept Logan’s offer of help, and the mutants left the hotel without much further debate. On Logan’s insistence, Remy left an unsigned but very sincere note in the stolen car, making an attempt to explain the extremely dire situation that led to its theft. Scott had landeded the jet in the field a mile or so from the hotel, in a flattened clearing surrounded by dense wood. 

“And from now on, no more stealin’ shit people can’t afford to lose.” Logan said as they left the car behind them and began the trek through the woods. 

“Rarely do,” Remy said as they boarded the jet. “But desperate times and all.”

“Don’t care, desperate ain’t an excuse. Mutants got a lot of ways to die, don’t make being stupid one of ‘em.” The loading ramp slid shut with a whisper as Scott took a seat in front of the controls. Logan and Remy each took seats in the back of the plane, going over the finer points of ethical stealing. Piotr took a seat across from them and immediately lost himself in a book, wishing no part of the conversation and very happy that Remy’s overly gregarious nature would no doubt deflect further questioning his way.

“Ok guys, it’s going to be a couple hours until New Orleans so get settled. We’re going to overshoot the city by a few miles and park in the woods, we’ll have to hoof it from there.” Scott announced after they were airborne, but no one responded. 

“Don’t bother, Scott. The Russian is already nose-deep in his book, and the other two are ten seconds away from a literal pissing contest. It’s just you and me for a couple hours,” Wanda leaned back in the co-pilot chair and kicked one leg over the other. “So, you think this is going to be fun?” Scott grimaced out of the windshield.

“I suppose. Vacations usually are.” He didn’t make eye contact, instead he fiddled with various knobs and switches lain across the massive dash.

“A vacation? This is a vacation for you? I think I misjudged you, boy scout.”

“I didn’t call this a vacation. The Professor and Logan called this a vacation.” Scott wiped at the hair in his face and ignored his quickening pulse.

“Well, it’s not like you couldn’t use it. Come on, we’re flying a thousand miles from home, crack a smile.”

“You know, Wanda, what do you have to gain from this? Working with Gambit isn’t exactly your style.” Wanda let out a loud laugh.

“My style? Summers you don’t know a thing about my style, as a matter of fact what you don’t know about me could fill that mansion you live in.”

“I didn’t mean any offense, I know we’ve had fights in the past, I just never figured you for a criminal.” From behind him, Scott could hear her seethe through her teeth and he regretted his sentence. 

“Fuck you Cyclops.” Wanda stood up and walked to the back of the plane and took a seat next to Piotr. She crossed her arms, blew a strand of hair out of her face. “By the way, Gambit, you were right. Being called a criminal does suck.”

“Ugh, is it supposed to smell like this?” Wanda asked as they stepped through the waters, keeping as close to the shore as they could. The sun had long since gone down but the humidity still hung in the air, a thick cloud that enveloped the group at every step. The night had also brought mosquitos, buzzing in their ears as they trudged through mud and slop.

“Keep moving, Witch,” Logan muttered. Grabbing Remy’s shoulder, he allowed the two of them to drift to the back of the group. “Stick around, Cajun, I’m not done talking to you.”

“Hm, wonder what this could entail.”

“Look, this is your territory, your show, but remember what I said. You get stupid you’re going to get killed. And not even by me.”

“Mon ami, you wouldn’t dare,” Remy mocked. Logan stepped in front of him, and put a hand on Remy’s chest, stopping him.

“Listen, just because you’ve got us helping you doesn’t mean we’re pals. It’s Xavier’s motto that we oughta help all mutants, not mine.” Remy smirked and lit a cigarette.

“Then you look pretty funny standing in a Louisiana swamp." 

They walked in relative silence until they made their way out of the low waters and muck of the gulf swamp. Remy gave them quick directions to where he was taking the group as they shook the brackish water from their boots and wiped sweat from their brows. As they began the march again Remy caught up with Scott, walking alone at the front of the group.

“ Mon ami, forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but I can’t help but notice the lady was flirting with you back on the plane.”

“ I think you’re mistaken, Gambit.”

“Hardly, I consider myself something of an expert on matters of the heart,” Scott arched an eyebrow. “Maybe expert is a strong word, but my other point stands, you got someone interested in you.”

“Possibly before I called her a criminal.”

“Well, when she talk to you again, maybe don’t bring up criminal records”, he turned to the rest of the group and raised his voice a bit. “Now, when we get to the Domino Lounge, I want most of you to make yourselves comfortable, consider any tabs on La Diable Blanc. I gotta friend waitin’ there.” 

The Domino lounge was easy to miss, and that feature was by design. Tucked between larger, flashier bars that catered to tourists and revelers, it was a good place for those that wished to drink in anonymity. Indeed, the bar itself was underground, with only a nondescript wooden door announcing its’ presence to the street. Remy held the door open for the group and followed them down the stairs. A few of the servers and staff stopped what they were doing momentarily, then became overly invested in their work when Remy stepped down the stairs. Logan noticed the sudden fascination several tables held with themselves, their phones, the tvs, or anything else to avoid looking up but instead out of the corners of their eyes.

“Your reputation proceed you?” Logan said.

“Somethin’ like that. Come on, I gotta talk to the owner,” Then, to the rest of the group, “Alright, order anythin’ you want, remember that. Me and him got business with the owner, but y’all in the greatest city on Earth.” The two easily made their way through the crowd, most still shooting Remy incredulous looks. Down a hallway past the bathrooms, there was a closed door marked Office. When Remy turned the knob, a silenced gunshot pierced through the air, hitting the doorjamb above his head. A small bit of plaster floated past his eyes as he froze.

“You know, I was pretty clear last time. So I have to ask, did No Longer Welcome change its definition?” The woman was tall, that was clear even from her sitting behind a desk with her legs kicked up on her desk. Her skin was pale, chalk-white except for a spot around her left eye.

“Now, Domino, you know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

“That’s why you’re still breathing,” She spun her gun back into its holster. “For the moment, at least. Now, what reason do you have for risking the few brain cells you got left?” 

“I’m assumin’ you heard by now I got a price on my head. I’m here to track down the sumbitch.” Domino let out a snort. 

“So dramatic, Lebeau. I do see you brought help, though. Last I heard, the famous Wolverine was playing hero in New York, are times that tough that you've fallen to working with this guy now?"

Scott took a seat across from Wanda, handing her a glass of beer. The bar was crowded and tables hard to come by, although Piotr had found little issue in convincing a group to relocate. 

“What’s this for?”

“It’s for drinking. I wanted to apologize about what I said on the plane.” Wanda grasped the tall pint glass.

“And you thought the best way was to buy and underage girl a drink in a public bar? Now who’s the criminal?” Wanda grinned as she took a sip; even behind his glasses she could see his eyes widen. Scott sputtered and almost choked on his own beer before Wanda grabbed his hand, laughing.

“You-you’re-under-“

“Relax, I’m of age, by a year even. But I wanted to see you sweat first, consider it payback for calling me a criminal. Seriously, are you always this tense?” Across the room, Piotr noticed as the front door opened. The men who entered made no move toward the bar, instead splitting up and taking various routes through the restaurant.

“No, not always,” He said, wiping spilled beer off his sleeve. “I guess I’ve just been more focused on work and the team lately,” He almost mentioned Jean and then stopped himself. “I’ve been doing my best to occupy my mind but things around the mansion have been difficult.” 

“So talk to someone. Or get in a fight, every time I’m feeling down a throw Todd a couple good ones and it usually works for me. Come on, I’ll let you come over and you can get a couple whacks in.”

“I appreciate it, Wanda, but I don’t think that's the answer.” Piotr put a hand in the middle of the table

“My friends, I hate to interrupt but I believe we are about to have trouble.”

“Damn right you do you bunch-a commie fucks.” Six men stood at the edge of the table. A couple held thick links of chain that dangled from their fists, another slipped on a pair of scuffed brass knuckles, lacking any sort of sheen. Another member of the group stepped out from the pack and pushed Piotr’s shoulder.

“I don’t give two fucks what they been feeding you in Mother Russia, Ruskie. You’re in America, you’re in Louisiana, and most important of all you’re in my bar. So step to getting. You and your mutie friends.” Piotr stood up, his six-foot eight bulk towering over the group of rednecks. Without as much as a blink, every inch of his body was covered in steel. He enveloped the man’s hand in his own massive metal paw. As Piotr shut his fist Scott could hear the cracks and pops of bones that would never find their place completely again as the man crumpled in front of both the mutants and his friends. He gasped audibly and choked back tears as his shoulders sagged. Piotr became the only thing holding him up, a lifeline to his dignity in the eyes of his drunk buddies.

“You may say whatever you wish to me, but you have insulted both of my friends. I would like you to apologize to them.”

“Or—or what, mutie?” The man gasped out.

“Or else I start moving my hand downward.” The man gulped and spat out is words rapid-fire.

“Sorry to disturb you guys. You have a nice night.” The man made an attempt to collapse to the floor, but was caught by one of his friends. Piotr did not move a muscle as the group quickly left the bar. Piotr did not sit down until the last one had left. The remainder of the bar crowd quickly turned to discussing any other subject beyond present events.

“Seems like you handled the trouble all by yourself, tin man,” Wanda said, cradling her head in a hand. “What do you even need us for?”

“I was not talking about them. There are several men in here in military gear, and they have not taken their eyes off us. I believe these are the same men Remy has been running from.” Scott’s eyes roamed the crowded bar. Two men in bulletproof vests near the exit. Another in the line for the bathroom. Three more at the bar, not drinking but with a full view of their table. The bar was crowded, and dark, but Scott knew that could only offer so much protection. Then he saw two heading toward the back, back toward the same office Gambit and Logan were standing in.


	5. Chapter Five

Scott’s eyes darted wildly from behind his glasses. From their booth he had a view of most of the bar but he was still on a low plain which gave them a disadvantage. He turned toward the bar, where he could see two men at the front of the bar, big overpowered magnums strapped on to their hips. But a third had stood up and was roaming around the immediate area, hovering by the service side of the bar, clearly annoying the cocktail waitress. And the crowd at the bar was shielding him from the others. It was risky, but the one closest them was isolated, and the fact he kept running into staff members suggested he was inexperienced. Scott turned to Peter.

“Peter, I’m going to need you. Can you handle a little more roughness?”

“I think these men intend violence towards our friends. Defending them is not rough at all, it is honor.”

“Violence? Roughness? This is so unlike you, Summers. Anything I can do to help?” Wanda grinned over the head of her beer. Scott began to frown, and then had a spark of inspiration.

“Wanda, you can affect probability, right? What’s the probability that his friends have no idea where he is?” Wanda thought for a second.

“I’d say it’s becoming more likely by the second. But won’t the hex bolts freak this bar out? I mean, I’m all for chaos, but I don’t think you’ve got the stomach for it.” She played with her half-full glass, running a black fingernail slowly along the rim. Her tone was sarcastic, but Scott caught a flash of genuine concern in her blue eyes and he smiled.

“If the plan I came up with thirty seconds ago works, we won’t have to worry. C’mon Peter, let’s invite that mercenary to have a chat with us.” Scott and Peter used the thick crowd and loud music as cover. People milled about the bar, screaming for drinks as fast as the two bartenders could pump them out. They made their way to the service bar, where the cocktail server was attempting to maneuver a tray of tequila shots through. They stepped to the side, letting her pass without getting a good look at either one of them. Scott gestured for Peter to move behind the mercenary as Scott came up in front of him, blocking the man’s field of vision. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over and sit with us?”

“Buzz off fuckwad, I’m here on business, fuck off out of my face.” He spoke with a heavy southern accent that forced its way through unshaven lips and his breath hung heavy with the stench of cheap food and cheaper tobacco. That was when Peter laid his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Let me rephrase. Why don’t you have a seat over in that booth,” Scott gestured toward Wanda, who was enjoying the show from her vantage point. “Because if you don’t, my friend behind you is going to crush your shoulder, and then I’m going to blast you through the next three walls with laser beams that come out my eyes.” . Peter tightened his grip.

“Shit, y’all muties too? Just my fucking luck. You freaks know I ain’t the only one here.” Peter started pushing the man toward the booth and he reluctantly complied. Peter slid the man into the booth before taking a seat himself. Scott checked for the other mercenaries. If they had noticed their friend they gave no indication. The merc gave Wanda a leering glance and grinned, flashing teeth stained with tobacco spit.

“You a mutie too, goth girl? What’s your power?” Wanda held up her hand and let it glow blue for a second. 

“My power is,” she let the blue fade from her hand, then reached across and slapped the merc before grabbing him by the jaw. “My power is I’m fucking crazy. And, if you call me mutie or goth girl again, I’ll break you. Now, be a good boy and listen to my friend Cyclops here.” She leaned back into her seat and took a sip of beer. Scott took a minute to gain his composure.

“Thanks Wanda. So, who hired you?”

“Don’t know. I go wherever the money takes me. Couple days ago my boss got a wire, said this guy needed a bunch of us to take some master thief down. This equipment, all of it provided. All yesterday we were running training drills in the woods. I don’t even know half these guys’ names.” Peter was still gripping the man’s shoulder, but the merc’s eyes were focused squarely on Wanda. 

“Ok, first thing, I need to clear this bar.”

“What does it matter? We’re only here for one guy, a mutant,” He pulled out a picture of Remy from his vest. “This is the only guy we’re looking for, and we want him alive. I’m a forgiving guy, but there’s guys sweeping this whole place. We know he’s here.”

“Yea, but I have friends here too.”

Two mercenaries made their way down the narrow hall that led to the back office. The door to the office was closed and both men looked down at their vests, at small computer screens.

“My scanner is going off like crazy. He can’t be alone in there.” They both steadied their guns against their shoulders, and one grasped at the cheap brass knob and swung open the door, with the other moving into the darkened office. Entering gun barrel first, he checked behind the door and the desk. Nothing. He turned to face his partner.

“It says he’s here. This is giving me the willies.”

“You’ve got a modified AR-15 in your hands, and you got the ‘willies?’ Come on man, you’re better than that.” They both stood in the middle of room, looking at each other and fiddling with their expensive gear. Then, a small sound from the shadows, like metal on bone.

“Hey, what was that?”

The gunfire erupted from the back hallway, sending the bar into a panic. Drunk patrons grasped for exits, piling over each other as they made their way to the doors. The remaining mercenaries oscillated between firing wildly and ducking between fleeing patrons in an attempt to find their quarry. So concerned with their target and their trackers they failed to notice a gun tossed at their feet, unstable and glowing pink. The explosion knocked them into the back wall, with Domino, Logan, and Remy emerging from the magenta smoke. Scott fired his eyes at the two standing near the bar while Wanda fired her hex bolt at the mercenary still in his seat, letting out a pained cry as she did so. One mercenary stood at the end of the hallway, Logan had already sniffed him out and slammed three claws into the man’s rib cage before turning the corner. Logan growled and launched himself at another, drawing his claws up through the man’s rifle, as Remy launched two cards through the air, pink energy screaming through the air and striking their target. The first one exploded at the mere’s feet, sending him up in the air as there second landed in the man’s chest. The force sent him backward into the wall, leaving a sizable crater in the wall as the man slumped to the floor. 

“Well, congratulations Mr. Lebeau, this is the second time you’ve trashed my bar.” Domino deadpanned as she fired her pistol behind her shoulder, taking down a mercenary reaching for his gun. 

“This time it ain’t my fault! I came here to find out who’s trying to kill me!” 

“Well, you got your answer, Cajun.” Logan knelt down next to one of the dead mercenaries and began going through his pockets and rustling over equipment. Remy, meanwhile, walked over to the bar and reached for a bottle of cheap bourbon, when he noticed the bartenders, huddled underneath an icewell. He paused for a second, before reaching into his wallet and laying a couple hundreds on the bar.

“What is that for, Remy?” Piotr had taken a barstool next to Remy, while he remained seated on the bar. The rest of the mutants wandered about the bar area, waving smoke out of their faces and helping out the last of the stragglers, patrons who had taken cover instead of fleeing. Domino waved off the staff, producing a roll of bills from her pocket that served as both money to keep quiet and the night’s tips.

“Well, the money is for those bartenders down there, they work for tips. I don’t want to be the reason these fine folks don’t make rent or bills. And the bourbon is for me, because I’m fresh outta ideas.” Remy punctuated his sentence with a long slug from the bottle.

“Hey guys,” Wanda said, huddled in the booth with her dominant hand cupped over her other arm. “One of those assholes got me.” Scott was closest to the booth, gently coaxing her hand off the wound. She winced and squirmed and Scott took his hand away.

“It’s not bad, but we’ve got to get that bullet out. We have some medical equipment on the jet.”

“Looks like a through and through from here,” Logan muttered, grabbing the bottle from Remy. “Calm it, Gumbo. Gonna need you in a right state of mind for this,” Logan took a slug from the bottle. “Well, right stand of mind for you.” Remy just shrugged and shook the bottle in the direction of the group. Piotr declined, as did the rest of the group. Domino sarcastically offered her top shelf for free. No one took her up on the offer.

“Well sorry Wolverine, but we all don’t have your awesome healing factor.” Wanda muttered as Scott scooped her good arm over his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her waist. She opened her mouth to protest, but said nothing and rested her head on Scott’s side as he helped her up the stairs and out the door. As soon as Scott left, the frame of door was filled by the massive frame of an older black man, long black hair and a salt and pepper goatee. He was dressed well, even in the heat and humidity of New Orleans. 

“Bishop, you made it!” Remy wrapped the man in a hug. He shook hands with Logan and Piotr, then hugged Domino and exchanged pleasantries. Bishop glanced about, doing a quick inspection of the ruined bar.

“Remy, you’ve been busy,” he nudged a mercenary laid out at his feet. “What’s this, the second time you’ve trashed Dom’s place?” Behind him, Domino rolled her eyes.

“Why is everyone focusing on that? There’s men trying to kill me.” Bishop sat down at one of the few tables that were still upright. 

“Yea, about that. I was able to track down who ordered the hit, but you’re not going to like the answer.”

“The Assassin’s guild?”

“The very same.”

“Wait, when you kidnapped Rogue you said they were called Rippers.” Logan tossed the empty whiskey bottle in the nearest trash can.

“Yea, because it sounded less threatening.” 

“You thought Ripper sounded better?”

“Better than Assassin.” Logan shrugged in response.

“If we’re all done discussing threatening nomenclature, it ain’t just the Assassin guild,” Bishop started. “Your own Thieves Guild got their fingerprints on this hit too. That guy that tried to kill you at the ATM? Recruit to the Thieves guild, your hit was supposed to be his final initiation.” Bishop punctuated his statement by pulling a thin manila out from his sport coat and slapping it on the table. Remy eyed his friend suspiciously as he grabbed the file.

On the X-jet, Scott rooted about through drawers while Wanda held a cloth bandage over her wound. To his left, Scott had already lain out forceps and bandages, but he was still searching for a device Dr. Mcoy had once showed him, a laser that could seal up large cuts instantly. He knewthey kept one in the jets, but nothing was organized .

“So, how’s the vacation so far?” Wanda broke the silence while sitting with folded legs in the middle of the floor.

“I always wanted to see New Orleans. Guess this is going to have to count.” Scott muttered, then yelled in exclamation as he finally found the device. “Ok, first things first, I need to take a look at your arm, so you’re going to need to take off your jacket.” Wanda sat up and managed to shrug the jacket off of her shoulders and her good arm.

“You’re going to need to help me with this one, Scott,” He knelt behind her with a fresh cloth in one hand and began to peel the jacket down. When he got to the wound, he gently nudged her hand away, pulled quickly, then applied the fresh cloth over it. Without the jacket covering her she was clad now in tight pants and a thin low-cut shirt, and even sitting Scott noticed her curvaceous figure. He gulped and shook his head of the thoughts. “You’re pretty good at that, Scott. God it’s weird calling you that.”

“Why, it’s what I’ve been called my whole life. And we get medical training before we’re cleared to run missions.” Scott pulled the medical equipment closer while in his brain he racked himself to come up with conversation subjects. Wanda had lost a decent amount of blood and it was important she stay awake.

“Duh. I just meant…we’ve fought, and not just the way teenagers do, we went out to hurt each other. At least, I went out to hurt you. But as I’ve gotten older I feel like I’ve calmed down a bit. And it’s just weird that I’m spending time with someone teenage me would’ve hated. No offense. I don’t actually hate you.”

“That’s sweet. Almost saccharine coming from you, actually.”

“Don’t push your luck. How’s it look?”

“Logan was right, there’s no bullet, so I just need to stitch you up.” Grabbing several pieces of gauze, Scott began cleaning the blood from Wanda’s arm, revealing the alabaster skin underneath. Her jacket had absorbed much of the blood, a fact Wanda was vocally upset about.

“Scott, where’s Jean in all of this? I’m used to seeing you two attached at the hip.”

“Jean is…uh, not an X-man anymore. She joined the Avengers about six months ago.”

“Shit. I’m sorry I brought that up.”

“No, it’s ok. She’s somewhere she can do a lot of good for not just mutants, but everyone. She always wanted that.”

“Well, good on you for being mature about it. If I dated someone for that long I’d be a wreck.” In the silence that followed Scott held McCoy’s device over the wound, and in several seconds it had stitched Wanda’s bullet wound into nothing more than a bruise. She looked at it incredulously, flexing her arm in various directions and poking at the flesh several times.

“You know, you’re being a pretty good sport about getting shot. I wish I handled my first superhero injury this well.” Scott chuckled to himself and began cleaning, he tossed the bloody rags into a trash chute, then began putting away the unused supplies. He made sure to lay McCoy’s device, whatever strange name he had for it, back in the drawer for medical supplies, and put it at the front of the drawer this time, in much plainer sight.

“I’ll be honest, I’m a little woozy between the blood loss and the adrenaline. Plus, I don’t get fawned over by handsome men enough. It’s something I could get used to.” Scott nodded, not processing what Wanda said for several seconds. When it finally occurred to him, he attempted to stammer out an answer as he slammed a drawer shut harder then necessary. When he turned around Wanda was already behind him, and with her good arm she pushed Scott back against the wall, grabbed a scruff of brown hair and kissed him. Her lips pushed his open and their tongues met. Wanda let her free hand roam under his shirt and Scott wrapped his hands around her waist. 

[Author’s note: Leave a review. Wash your hands. And call your mom, she probably misses you. But seriously, leave a review]


	6. Chapter Six

“What the hell,” Remy began frantically sifting through the papers in Bishop’s envelope. They were spread about the table, becoming more and more disorganized as Remy shuffled them about the flat surface. He’d paw at one, study it, then push it to the side as he grabbed for another one. “My family is trying to kill me?” His voice, usually full of swagger, sounded small and lost. Peter laid a hand softly on Remy’s shoulder and muttered an apology while Domino and Logan began righting the overturned tables, neither one really wanting to be the first to speak. 

“Remy, I’ve gone through all my contacts, but the Guilds have been real quiet lately. They’re not pulling regular jobs, just you in the crosshairs. Whatever they’re planning, however they’re going about this, they’re not using their normal channels.” Remy pulled a chair up to the same table as Bishop and buried his head in his hands, muttering in French about famille. Bishop lit a cigarette in the silence. 

“Mr. Bishop, do you have any idea how to stop this assassin?” Peter asked with his hand still on Remy’s shoulder. Domino and Logan finally approached the table, mostly because they had run out of furniture to upright. Bishop shook his head.

“The only person that can call off the hit is the head of a guild, and they’re clammed up so tightly I’m lucky I got the information I did.”

“Remy, my weapons are available for whatever you need. You don’t deserve the wrath of the families.” Domino took Remy back down the hallway to her office for several minutes. In the interim, Bishop spoke with Logan and Peter about a short history of the families.

“Merci, Dom.” Remy said, shaking Domino’s hand

“I still expect you to pay for the damage to this place.” 

“Of course, Dom.” Remy began shuffling through the papers again. Outside the shouts of drunken tourists could be heard, the cacophony of the fight already forgotten.

“We gonna meet more friends of yours, Cajun?”

“This don’t make sense,” Remy tucked one of the papers in his jacket. “But sure sounds like it, Logan.” 

“Well, then let’s grab Scott and the Witch from the jet and get going. This climate’s never been good to me.”

“I do not think we have to.” Colossus announced, and all eyes followed his finger toward the door. A tall man in a tuxedo, flanked by two muscular men with large handguns on their hips and malice in their eyes, was standing in the doorway. His two bodyguards stayed there, blocking the exit, while the man in the tuxedo strolled in.

“Remy Lebeau, your presence has been requested by the head of the Thieves’ Guild. Immediately.” Remy narrowed his eyes and approached the man.

“Prove you’re from the guild, or I’m not going anywhere.” The man chuckled and loosened his bow tie, then tugged at the color of his dress shirt, revealing a small purple and gold fleur-de-lis tattooed on his collarbone. Remy removed his jacket from one of his shoulders then pulled at the collar of his shirt to reveal a similar tattoo.

“La Vie, Honore’, Voleurs.” They both said together.

“Ok, my friends coming with me.” Remy shrugged his jacket back on while the man corrected his collar and tie. Logan approached the two men.

“So, this guy shows a tattoo and mutters a couple French words and we’re just going along with him?”

“Logan, when we started you said this you told me this was my show. So, just trust me that, at least in this moment, that we good.”

“This sounds like a trap.

“Don’t we need Scott and Wanda?” Remy excused himself, then appeared a moment later from the back room.

“Your friends are already on the mansion grounds, having tea and awaiting your arrival,” When the man was met with stares, he added, “Nothing comes into New Orleans without the Guild’s explicit knowledge.”

“That’s a load,” Domino muttered. “How’s Henri’s face doing?”

“Healing nicely, Ms. Domino. He says you got a lucky shot.”

“Lucky is what I do, honey. You tell Henri that the next time he wants to walk into someone else’s house barking orders to remember that.” The man bowed in response. Bishop grabbed up his papers from the table and stood up, pushing his chair in as he did so.

“Remy, I believe this is where we part ways. Whatever happens next, it’s probably best I don’t know. Helps me stay neutral in my own dealings,” The two mutants hugged and said their goodbyes, then Remy, Logan, and Piotr followed the man in the tuxedo out the door. Bishop snorted the minute they were out of view. “Best information in the city comes through me and he doesn’t even acknowledge me. I thought I’d gotten under their skin more.”

“You try punching them? Worked for me.”

On the X-jet, Scott and Wanda were still in each other’s arms when the alarms sounded throughout the cabin. Unrecognized Presence Detected In Proximity, it blared through small speakers and repeated. Scott and Wanda pulled away from each other, slightly, but Wanda left a hand on Scott’s chest, and chuckled softly.

“Godamnit. What are the chances it’s just the rest of them?” Scott still had a hand on her waist and he was panting softly.

“None. The jet is designed to recognize the communicator signal, and both Piotr and Logan have one.”

“So this is a genuine problem? The kind we can’t ignore?”

“This sounds like a genuine problem,” They released each other, and Scott walked over to the ramp control and hit the button. With a whoosh and release of hydraulic gas, the ramp began lowering. “I won’t lie, I’ve got a couple questions for you Wanda.” He began to descend the ramp, disappearing from Wanda’s view. From below came the stench of a swamp, decaying plant matter and the buzz of mosquitos. But no answer from Scott.

“What could you possibly have questions about?” She shouted back. When he didn’t answer she ran over to the top of the ramp, and even from there she could see a cadre of armed men, all of whom with guns trained on Scott, apart from one. This man was well dressed underneath a pair of hip-waders, and he addressed Wanda and Scott in a polite but forceful manner. His confidence was offset by his unusual 

“Your presence has been requested by order of the Guilds. Any attempt to refuse this act of kindness, well…you get the idea.” The man said, gesturing Scott off the ramp.

“Well, now I have some questions.” Wanda said as she reluctantly put up her arms and began descending from the jet.

The limousine pulled around a lit fountain, and a man in a smartly pressed tux held the door as the four men exited the vehicle. Behind them was sea of manicured green grass and high boxwood hedges that seemed to stretch on and capture the whole mansion in time, protecting it from the outside world. The mansion itself was three stories tall, propped up by gorgeous Corinthian columns while the house itself was done entirely in brick painted a soft cream color. From the large windows that dotted the façade candles could be seen flickering beyond thick red curtains.

“I was hoping I’d never see this ugly place again.”

“We need to work on your definition of ugly, bub.” Another butler held the front door open, and the four men stepped through the foyer into an opulent front room. A chandelier dripped diamonds and the walls were lined with oil paintings and ancient trinkets that sparkled beneath glass displays. The centerpiece was the spiral staircase, a plush carpet riding the middle and all around cold air blew, a welcome respite from the humidity that hung in New Orleans like a cloud.

“This is a palace. Remy, you grew up here?” Peter twisted his head to take it all in, everywhere he looked he found more opulence. When he spoke his voice was small and soft, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the illusion. Logan grunted and set himself roughly into one of the chairs that were set up in the middle 

“I’ve told you a thousand times, I’d trade with anybody to never see this place again.” 

“What an interesting sentiment. I feel the same about you.” At the top of stairs stood a beautiful blonde woman, draped in a green evening gown with a mink stole wrapped about her neck. To describe her as flawless would not do her justice. From her voice to her posture to the way she descend the circular staircase, each step deliberate and delicate, suggested this woman that was used to the very best life had to offer. Peter immediately stood up out of his chair, as the man who had ushered them here disappeared down an expansive hallway.

“Mes amis, meet Bella Donna Bordeaux. My ex-fiancé.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” She approached Remy and slapped him, hard. “Do you know how long I stood at that alter? In front of my entire family, trying to convince myself that you were being fashionably late, or you had been hurt, or one of hundred scenarios that didn’t involve you being a spineless shit and leaving me on the day of my wedding?”

“It was a sham wedding!”

“But it was going to be my sham wedding! It was my special day, to put on a white gown and diamonds and live out a fairy tale, for one day. And you couldn’t even give me one damn day. So, I want you to know that the only reason I don’t kill you, right here and now, is because the new head of the guilds is going to hurt you more than I ever could.” Remy opened his mouth but no sound came out and he collapsed into a chair next to Logan.

“Cajun, I never credited you with a whole lotta brains, but after this, I think you might be the dumbest person I’ve ever met.” Bella Donna, for the first time, acknowledged the other people in the room, offering Logan a curt nod before acknowledging Peter.

“Sweetheart, please take a seat. The head of the guilds will be down presently.”

“No offense intended, my mother and father taught me to stand up whenever a lady enters a room,” Peter extended his hand. “It is meant as a sign of respect, ma’am. My name is Peter Rasputin.” Bella Donna cocked her head and took Peter’s hand.

“Your parents taught you very well. Please, call me Bella Donna.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Bella Donna.”

“See, Remy, this man knows how to treat a woman. You should take notes,” then, she leaned close to Peter and he had to bend his shoulders. “If you need anything during your stay in my home, you will let me know directly, non?” And she began her descent up the stairs without another word, as though the entire display had never happened. Peter sat down, beet red all over his cheeks, and shot Remy a look with the slightest hint of a smile.

“Don’t give me that look, Petey, I’m not in the mood. I’m serious, this ain’t the time.”

“She seems nice.” Remy muttered a Catholic prayer and lit a cigarette. “Mr. Summers and Ms. Maximoff are still missing.”

“Nah, they’re here, I smell ‘em. They’re safe, my theory is that they’ll keep us separated until they get whatever they want out of Cajun.” Logan said as he motioned for a cigarette. 

The walk from the jet had been quiet, punctuated by the sounds of swamp creatures stirring in the night or one of the commandos barking commands. It was a senseless ego trip. As soon as the two mutants arrived to the mansion the commandos were dismissed, Scott and Wanda were led up a set of back stairs where two butlers led them to separate bathrooms and handed them face towels. When both mutants were done scrubbing the sweat and dust from their faces they were led to the tea room, ornately decorated and overlooking the same swamp they had just trudged through. A butler momentarily fussed over tea

“Gotta say, this is probably the most comfortable kidnapping I’ve ever experienced.”

“Why the guns then?”

“It is still a kidnapping.” Wanda nodded and picked up her teacup.

“There’s no poison in this, is there? Because the last few hours have been real stressful, so if there’s drugs or anything, I’m gonna cut off your face and make you wear it as a mask.” The butler, a younger man maybe in his thirties, bowed slightly.

“No ma’am, it’s simply an English tea. Please make yourselves as comfortable as you wish, and you will be reunited with the rest of your party presently.” He then motioned to a pull cord near the door if they needed anything else and left with another bow and no mention of Wanda’s threat. Scott and Wanda both began sipping their drinks, looking over the midnight stars as they met with the pallid swamp at the horizon.

“Cut his face off?” Scott finally said.

“Ugh, I was hoping it would rattle him a bit more, but honestly it’s not my best threat. Anyway, I’m cranky. I was having fun in the jet.”

“Yea, about that, that really took me by surprise. I still have some questions for you.” Wanda laughed, harshly.

“Sorry. My normal response to human emotion is mockery and derision. I’m told it’s not my best quality. Anyway, what could you possibly have questions about?”

“Well, I guess I just…didn’t know that you felt that way.” Wanda let out another harsh laugh, but then her dark lipstick stained lips stretched into a wide smile and her blue eyes flashed at Scott. She propped her hand under her chin and rested her elbow on the arm of her chair. 

“Look, I live in a house with a six hundred pound manchild, a greasy toad who can’t take no for an answer, and a brother who owns more hair products than I do. Oh, and a guy in his mid-twenties who still pines for his high school girlfriend. And it feels like all I do is go to work and home and get hit on by said greasy toad until Gambit shows up and twenty-four hours later I’m running from mercenaries and guilds. And then I find myself on the jet with a handsome guy who’s doting on me and I’m thinking, Why shouldn’t I have fun? Like you said, it’s a vacation. And you’re a really good kisser.” 

Scott smiled back at her and turned as red as his glasses. “You’re pretty good yourself. I just uh haven’t done anything since Jean left.”

“Do you still have feelings for her?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that after she became an Avenger, I threw myself into working for the professor, I never skipped a mission, and when I wasn’t working I was in the Danger Room or the gym. So I guess I forgot about intimacy until we kissed. What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to take you out, you know, whenever we’re done being kidnapped.”

“That sounds really sweet. After the kidnapping of course, boy scout.” She grinned a natural grin and Scott swore he saw her eyes turn three shades bluer.

“Of course,” Scott sipped his tea and looked back out the window. 

Downstairs, Peter, Logan, and Remy were still seated in a semicircle. Their discussion was currently over who made the best Bond villain. Logan had stuck by his choice of Goldfinger, arguing that people had been remaking the torture scene ever since. Remy cut back that they had to redub all of the actor’s lines. This upset Peter, who anyway thought Scaramanga was the superior villain due to his fearsome nature and firepower. Technology and cunning over brute force wins every time. Remy snapped his fingers in agreement and was just about to announce his choice when a bald man, squat and stocky and sporting a wicked black eye approached the group.

“Henri, that you? Purple always was your color.” Remy said, leaning back in the chair.

“Shut up, asshat. The Head of the Guilds is ready for you.”

“So? Bring him out here, I’m getting damn fed up with this cloak and dagger shit. Tell him to face me.” Remy said, and the next voice he heard made his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat. His hands trembled and suddenly he felt cold, because it was a voice he thought he’d never have to hear again. The color drained from his face and his pupils dilated until Logan and Peter could barely see the red.

“That’s the gumption I like to hear, godamnit! You’re gonna be the best right hand man these guilds ever seen, mon fils. Couldn’ta done any better if you’d come from my own loins.”

“Jean-Luc,” He managed to choke out. Remy saw Henri’s mustache turn into a smile but he was too busy hearing his heart pound in his chest to respond. “Why you trying to kill me? Why are you even alive?”

“I aint tryin’ to kill you, I’m just the guy that hired the men trying to kill you, kid.”

[Author’s note: Please enjoy, follow, and leave a review.]


	7. Chapter Seven

“What the hell are you doing here? You supposed to be in the ground.” Remy turned around slowly, delaying the shock. Jean-Luc’s hair had greyed ever so slightly more and his facial hair was coarser. The lines in his face had deepened and some of the color had gone from his green eyes, but there was no mistake. That voice, that face, it was Jean-Luc Lebeau. “I saw you buried.”

“You saw a body get buried, kid, didn’t I teach you never to believe your eyes? I faked my death! I swear it’s one of the best scams I’ve ever run, oughta have done it years ago. I brought the guilds together like no one has before, and you’re gonna run ‘em right along side me.” Jean-Luc punched the calloused flesh of his palm as punctuation. 

“If you-you want me to run the Guilds why are you trying to have me killed?” Jean-Luc laughed heartily and walked around, standing in front of the entire group. He lay a hand on Henri’s shoulder, and from the corner of his eye Remy saw Bella Donna standing at the top of the stairs, reemerged. Probably come to enjoy the show, he thought. Logan stubbed out his cigarette

“I wasn’t trying to kill you. But after so many years away, I had to make sure you hadn’t gone soft on me. You needed a teenage girl just to rescue me last time but this time! This time you made me proud! You walked into Domino’s club like you owned the place, hell and you had her willing to help you I heard. And you got The Wolverine by your side,” Jean-Luc turned his attention from Remy. “Don’t think I don’t recognize the world famous Wolverine, the best there is.” Logan sat up in the chair but did not stand.

“You got any cigars around here bub? These cancer sticks ain’t doing it for me.” He declined Jean-Luc’s offer of a handshake, who shrugged but kept smiling.

“For a celebrity such as yourself, I’ll break out the Padrons. And you, big boy,” he motioned to Peter, who did shake his hand. “You look like you can do some damage, Ruskie. You want a job?”

“Don’t answer him, Petey. Where you got the rest of my friends?” Henri scoffed.

“I told you he ain’t changed. Still the same ungrateful bastard he always was.”

“Henri, I kicked your ass up and down these halls when we was kids, and I got no problem doing it again.” Remy started forward before Jean-Luc shot his arms out, catching the two in their tracks with a considerable strength his age concealed

“Boys, boys this ain’t the time to fight. Now, Remy’s right, he needs to hear the full story before we make any decisions,” Jean-Luc winked at Henri, slightly, but Remy still caught it. “Now, Remy, you and I gonna talk a little, and meanwhile Henri gonna reunite your friends. And Mr. Wolverine, you ask one my butlers to grab a couple of my cigars for you. Y’all guests in my house, ya hear?” Jean-Luc grinned the grin of someone selling something that doesn’t work, but Logan and Peter acquiesced silently, following Henri up the stairs.

“So, anyway, that was the second time I broke Todd’s arm. I don’t do this stuff on purpose, but if you sneak in my room to steal my underwear, I’m gonna be mad. Anyway, he heals pretty quick.”

“Well, why don’t you move, I mean if he’s bothering you that much and can’t take a hint.”

“Because the rent is free. And Pietro and Lance usually do a good job of keeping him distracted.” Henri swung the door open with a grunt and stood aside, allowing Logan and Peter into room, with the door slamming shut behind them. Logan puffed at a cigar and leaned against the window in front of both Scott and Wanda, while Peter grabbed a chair and pulled it next to them.

“So they actually served you tea? Hell of a comfortable kidnapping.”

“I said the same thing. Where’s Gambit, why isn’t he with you?”

“Remy is off with his father, who faked his death.” Peter said, which earned him incredulous looks from both Scott and Wanda, who mouthed the word Alive at Peter.

“Long story, don’t feel like explaining,” Logan took another puff. “The important thing is I don’t trust him one bit. He’s got a killin’ look in his eyes. Good taste in smokes though.” Logan admired the cigar momentarily before taking another puff.

“You’re a very observant man,” Bella Donna slinked through the doorway, brushing a hand along the back of the chairs before rounding the corner, and leaning against the same window as Logan. “I heard that pack of merde that Jean-Luc tried to feed you, and every single thing that came out of his mouth was a damn lie. He gonna kill Remy, and tonight.”

Jean-Luc led Remy down a hall lined with oil paintings and into a glass lined room, decorated with old maps of New Orleans and the nearby Gulf of Mexico. There was a single glass door that led outside, behind the mansion. There was an antique roll-top desk and a globe bar, already opened and displaying a decanter, some upturned glasses and a couple more small bottles of various liquors. Remy easily recognized Jean-Luc’s old office and remembered it was one of the only rooms he wasn’t allowed in as a kid. Jean-Luc pulled the stopper from the decanter and poured two fingers worth of whiskey into two glasses, handing one to Remy. He smelled it, and couldn’t place it but he knew it was probably aged and rare.

“We’re drinking to celebrate, my boy. Father and son, running the guilds.”

“You said you were going to give me the full story. Far as I’m concerned we ain’t got nothing to celebrate until then.”

“Just like I taught you, never take a job until you get the information. Alright, here’s the story. About a year ago, the head of the Assassins died, which led to a whole lot of infighting. Everybody tried grabbing the reins, but they couldn’t help but stab each other in the back. They were weak, it was a power vacuum,” Jean-Luc finished his drink and Remy followed suit. Jean-Luc refilled their glasses and continued. “So while all this is going on, I realize that if they too busy watching each other there ain’t nobody watching us. So Henri and I start consolidating the Thieves Guild. I sold off some of our money laundering business, started taking fewer jobs. Most important of all, I scoured and searched the homeless shelters until I found my perfect doppelganger. Took me nearly eight months, my boy, but I did it. I sent his relatives a couple care packages, but after that it was just a matter of waiting until my funeral and the plan was set.”

“That don’t explain how you got the Assassins to even listen to you. Now everybody think you’re dead, great.”

“Hah, my boy that was the easy part! I offered Bella a place of power and she might as well have put a red carpet out,” Remy gulped his drink and poured another at the mention of her name. “She’s a smart girl, gonna go far with me looking over her shoulder. Don’t know why you didn’t marry that broad, kid.”

“I didn’t marry her because it was a forced wedding, remember? That was your last attempt to unite the Guilds.”

“I remember the whole heap’a trouble you landed me in when you skipped town. Then I don’t hear hide nor hair from you until you pop up on the news, coming out of a metal egg like a goddamn chicken,” He paused. “I ain’t bring you here for a fight, especially this one. All water under the bridge, though let me repeat, it was one goddamn big pile of trouble after you left.”

“You know, I’ve already had this conversation once tonight. I get it, my leaving caused a lot of folk a lot of grief. If you looking for an apology you ain’t getting one.”

“What part of water under the bridge don’t you get, kid? I want you back here where you belong. Knock off this silly shit, running around in costume like you belong with these superheroes. You’re not a hero, you’re a thief, and a couple of costume changes don’t mean a thing,” Jean-Luc turned to look out the window, and Remy took that moment to press one of Domino’s sticky grenades under the globe. “But hell, you want to say goodbye to ‘em, like they’re gonna miss you, who am I to judge? Pour another drink and I’ll take you to them.”

By the time Remy made it to the tea room he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. He felt his feet stumble and his extremities felt warm and heavy. He opened the door to everyone in a semicircle, all seated except for Logan and Bella Donna. 

“What are you doing here, Bella? How’d this happen?”

“Your galpal here has been telling us a real entertaining story-Cajun, are you drunk?” Bella Donna rolled her eyes.

“Of course he’s drunk. Remy ain’t ever said no to anything in his life, why should mortal danger stop him,” She stomped over and slapped him across the face, hard. Remy stumbled, once then twice, but managed to steady himself long enough for him to flash Bella a questioning look. “Why? Because that man intends to kill you dead before sunrise and I just said I’d help keep him from doing you in deader than The Kingfish, but now I’m sorely regretting it!”

“So, you already met everyone then? Saves time on the introductions.” Bella Donna reared her hand back to slap him again but was caught by Logan, who stepped between the two as Remy lost his balance and fell to the carpet.

“I think you hit him enough tonight. He’s gonna need all the braincells he’s got left. What’s say you listen to her for five minutes, bub? It might save your life.” Bella Donna nodded Logan’s way before drawing her index finger along the back of Peter’s shoulders. Peter, for his part, attempted to steady his breathing and hide the red from his cheeks. 

“Simply put, your father intends to kill you, tonight. I assume he got you drunk so you wouldn’t question his story too much. He needs your vote when he meets with the Guild councils tomorrow.” Remy, having pulled himself up from the ground and now sat against the wall, held a hand to his head to keep the room from spinning.

“Guild councils? Why would I still have a vote?”

“Because the council is a bunch of old men. Some of them apparently think you did well not being tied down and striking out on your own. They think you kept the spirit of the Thieves Guild alive. And if you or anyone else agree y’all can keep it to your damn selves. But, if you’re dead the vote reverts to the closest male relative, which is Henri.”

“Which is why you need a plan, Bub.”

“I got a plan.” Remy pulled out a small remote and pushed the lone button on it. The house shook on its foundation, the windows rattled and a great roar filled their ears.

Downstairs, Jean-Luc finished his drink. The kid shouldn’t be up too much longer, he thought. He’d always been a lightweight, a consequence of whatever inferior DNA he came from. He then began running through different scenarios to tell the Guild council in the morning. His favorite involved a whiskey bottle, some garden hose and a milking cow but he rejected it as being too unnecessarily graphic. Currently he was considering just telling them the kid got lost in the swamps. He liked that one because it also gave him a convenient dumping ground. It made a good picture, maybe even tragic, Jean-Luc hauling the boy’s body out of the water. Maybe get Henri to snap a few photos, tearstained cheeks and all. 

His thoughts briefly entertained the group he had come in with and Jean-Luc dismissed those thoughts just as quickly. Remy had barely stopped talking since the runt had learned how, he had to figure half the group Remy was running around with had considered it once or twice. The boy could drive a saint to murder, and according to the news these mutants were far from canonized. And if they wanted to put up a fuss

His stomach growled. The only downside he’d ever experience from the drink was a raging hunger. He set down his tumbler and walked from his office to the kitchen, and that’s the when the explosion happened.

The walls disintegrated in a sea of splinters, sending glass and wood fragments into the outside grass. Flames licked at the wallpaper and small pieces of burning map floated about like confetti at the devil’s parade. The force knocked Jen-Luc first into the cabinet and then the floor. His vision swam and blood trickled from the crown of his head into one eye. His ears rang and he felt arms pick him up, prop him against the kitchen counter. It was Henri, and Jean-Luc’s hearing returned in the middle of him screaming about Remy. Being a late-comer to Henri’s rant, Jean-Luc made an educated guess at the subject.

“Of course it was him,” Jean-Luc dabbed at his head wound with a cloth, examine the new patterns of blood that came away each time. “Who else is gonna blow up the damn house?”

“So, what do we do now? Do you still want him running the Guilds with you?” Jean-Luc ignored Henri’s jealous prodding.

“Grab anybody we got. Now we just kill him.”

“That’s not a plan.” 

“Sure felt like a plan.” Remy pulled a pack of cards from his coat and Scott and Wanda lept from their chairs. Wanda threw open the door, looking up both directions, spying the mirror she had seen earlier. She fired a hex bolt towards it and yelled for Scott.

“Hey, shoot your eye blasts at that mirror, as soon as anyone comes near.” Bella Donna took shelter behind Peter as footsteps, loud and heavy, echoed from the stairs. When Scott saw movement, he fired, his optic blasts hit the mirror and bounced around the corner. They heard a crash of limbs toppling over limbs as the force knocked the approaching horde down. Scott laughed, impressed.

“Wow, what are the odds?” Wanda smiled back at the joke.

“Pretty good when you’re with me.” Logan emerged from the room, claws popped and Remy following behind.

“Peter, get Bella some place safe. The rest of you, stop patting each other on the back and get ready.” Remy launched a volley of cards down the hall, catching two mercenaries who had regained their balance quicker than the others. Logan ran down the hall, full speed. He caught one mercenary in the chest and took of another’s head, catching bullets the whole time. That was when Henri appeared, and from a landing on the stairs fired off two shotgun blasts. The first one caught Logan in the bicep, shredding it as the second exploded in his skull. Wanda screamed in a mixture of horror and delight.

“He’ll be fine,” Scott fired off another blast, but Henri was still obscured from view. “He does this more than you would think.” They took cover as bullets flew through the corridor like bees, and Henri’s voice sounded off the walls. 

“That’s one down! I’m gonna hang each and every one of you damn muties from the trees, and then I’m coming for you, Bordeaux! You’ll be begging for death when I’m through with you!” Henri rounded the corner with just a little too much confidence, and caught two of Gambit’s cards in the stomach, pitching him backward. 

“You boys stop all this fighting, now. It ain’t polite in front of company.”

“Jean-Luc, I’m gonna kill you. You seen your last New Orleans sun!” From cover, they saw Jean-Luc round the corner and Henri right himself. Henri still held his shotgun and Jean-Luc bared a mean looking Colt. The bullets came flying as Peter, a shining knight in bulletproof armor, came crashing through the wall, screaming like a banshee and swinging his fists. One connected with Jean-Luc’s temple, and a second haymaker smashed into Henri’s jaw. A deafening silence fell over the mansion as the group emerged from cover.

“Sorry about the walls, Ms. Bordeaux.”

“Don’t be,” she smiled, emerging from the hole in the wall behind Peter. “I look forward to using Thieves Guild money to pay for the repairs.”

“Goddamnit! Brain knitting together always hurts. Goddamn shotguns.” Logan said.

“Sucessful plan everyone.” Remy grinned.

“Still not a plan Gambit. Is everyone ok?” Scott wiped away at the sweat that was beginning to accumulate at his brow.

“I believe so, Summers. What I’m about to do to Jean-Luc, I don’t want any of y’all watching.”

“Not so fast, swamp rat. The rest of you can leave, with my apologies as the new head of the Guilds. But you owe me an explanation.”

After they had tied up Jean-Luc and Henri, both still knocked out cold from their injuries, and Bella Donna had sent the rest of the mutants on their way, she and Remy sat on a white wrought-iron bench that overlooked the swamp. The night was still dark and the moon shimmered in the water, but dawn was close, a couple hours at most, and soon the creatures would be stirring, hungry and anxious. Remy stole a glance toward the heavy wood that surrounded the Thieves’ mansion

“So, the night I left, that’s what you want to know. I didn’t intend to leave, I was going to go through with it. I was walking around the garden, it was late. I was running through ways I could improve the guilds, maybe make some positive change, and then I turn around and Magneto is just standing there. No idea where he came from, but he knows my name, he knows about my powers, but he talks about ‘em in a way I’ve never heard before. Jean-Luc used to smack me if he caught me using them, you remember, but this guy says I’m the start of the next stage of humanity. He says I’m gifted, I’m special, and I’m gonna leave humanity in the dust. Looking back, he was just telling me everything a fifteen year old wants to hear, especially when they been pushed down all their lives. And he asks me to go with him and I said yes. I didn’t give it any thought. Bella, you gotta believe me, if there was any way to change it I would.”

“I believe you. But you still don’t get it, it ain’t your leaving that hurt so much. You didn’t say anything, give me a warning. I know you didn’t want to go through with the marriage, I ain’t stupid, but we were friends growing up, Remy. You couldn’t write? Give a phone call,” Remy just stared down at the grass so she continued. “You always been young at heart Remy, and it ain’t always a good thing.”

“So what you going to do now?”

“I’m taking control of the Guilds. I imagine some of the older members of the council will drag their heels but right now I’m their best choice and they damn well know it.”

“What about Henri?”

“He’ll drag his heels worse than the council but by himself he ain’t got the brains or spine to be any threat. Anyway, what do you care? He just tried to kill you with a shotgun.”

“True enough,” Remy said, standing up. “But he about to be the only family I got on this side of the dirt.”

“They don’t deserve your loyalty. But I’ll grant it. Just understand this, I still would rather kill you as soon as look at you. As far as I’m concerned, your New Orleans privileges are revoked until further notice.”

When Jean-Luc came to he was upside down, blood pounding in his ears. He tried to right himself but his limbs resisted movement. He tilted his head as best he could, seeing his legs bound with heavy rope and hooked over a thick, low hanging tree branch. His hands were bound behind his back and a thick piece of duct tape covered his mouth. He could feel the water lap at the top of his head and it stung the cut from earlier. His whole head swam and ached, but he heard someone through the fog.

“You awake? I was thinking Petey put you in a coma,” Gambit took a drag from a thin joint and Jean-Luc caught the sweet smell in his nostrils. “You’re gonna die in these woods, Jean-Luc. Ain’t no one gonna come save you like the last time. You’re gonna die alone, and after I leave here with my friends I ain’t ever gonna say your name. You’re gonna be forgotten.” Jean-Luc glared but made no attempt to speak through the gag. Remy got up from his perch and paced for a moment before standing over Jean-Luc, his boots dipping into the approaching water. Jean-Luc felt it rise, the water was almost over his eyes.

“I just got one question for you. Why’d you have to try to kill me? You took me off the streets, gave me a home, but the minute I stand in the way of one of your grand schemes, you try to toss me away like trash.” Remy ripped off Jean-Luc’s gag in one motion. Jean-Luc hocked and spit as high as he could, landing on Remy’s coat. 

“Even the Devil expects salvation.” He then craned his head into the water, holding his head under the water. His body bucked and shuddered and then finally hung still.

Off in the woods, Remy took another drag and walked back to his log. He sat and stared at the body for a while.


End file.
